For Who Could Ever Learn to Love a Beast?
by xxToujoursPur
Summary: If he would learn to love another and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?
1. The Prince's Tale

_** Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind.**_

A darkness had fallen upon the Manor; a velvety black shroud, consuming the world around it. Swirling silver eyes stared out at the estate before him, reflections of crystalline snowflakes dancing in his fervid glare. A disgusting feeling had settled in the pit of Draco's stomach since the end of the war he'd had a hand in. The final battle, where Saint Potter killed the Dark Lord, where everyone and everything finally got rid of their biggest nuisance, where the Malfoy's fled like mutts with their tales between their legs.

Once the battle was over, the dead were buried, and the Ministry back in power, the raids began. Lucius was taken away, and the family banished from their lavish home.

Trials upon trials left Draco alone, Lucius sentenced to death, and Narcissa missing in action. The Malfoy family was obliterated, as much as any other family was. Shamed beyond redemption, lost and disgraced by all.

The flaxen haired man sat in what used to be his father's study, settled into a hacked up chair, staring out the window at the falling snow. If only life was like that; falling from the heavens only to turn into a beautiful phenomenon that brought a purity and hope along with it's suffocating chill, but no. Life was hell and then after death it got even more complicated. Draco sat with his teeth gritted, fingers curled into fists that rested upon his thighs, nostrils flared as the falling snow mocked him. He felt a muscle in his jaw ripple as he tensed up, his thoughts racing.

_** But then, one winter's night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within.**_

'_BING... BONG.'_

The ominous bell rang through the manor, shattering the silence with it's brassy tone, forcing the Malfoy boy to start. Strange, considering the only three friends he had left were already in their respective rooms.

Draco stood, the stress aches in his back twinging as he began to walk toward the door of the study, long legs stretching out over the rubbish. Down the stairs and across the foyer, the tolling continued, resonating like the church bells that chime at the hour of one's death. He sucked in a slow breath and ran his fingers through his jaw length hair, reaching for the large handle of the black wood door. With a simple tug, the door came open, letting the icy fingers of winter stretch in and grip the Malfoy boy tight. A shudder danced down his spine as he turned to look at the person who'd called.

She was a frail old being with frazzled off-white hair and moth-eaten clothing, nothing very unusual from the archetypal old witch, but her face was a thing to behold. She had a long chin hung with extra skin that molded into her neck, pale flesh that seemed as thin as soggy paper, and just as wrinkled. Her nose was long and crooked at the bridge before it hooked down, nearly touching her upper lip. Her eyes were glossed over and disguised behind wild white eyebrows and she had furry little moles to spare. She peeked up at Draco, a coo escaping her before she shifted on her feet and smiled up at him with the two teeth she had left. Draco cringed away and sneered, looking her over. "What do you want?" He snapped, looking down his thin nose at her gaunt form.

"Please, young master. I mus' find a gaff to rest me 'ead for the night," the woman began, her voice rough as gravel, earning a cold glare from those lustrous eyes.

She scooted closer to him, her bones creaking from the chill. Malfoy let out a grunt of revulsion and took a step back, letting the dim light from inside touch the ghastly old bint.

"I don' 'ave much wedge, but I can give thou this-" She said, reaching in the pocket of her threadbare cloak for an unexpected gift. Rather gingerly, her gnarled hands tugged out a rose. A crimson rose that looked almost like a sin in the old woman's hand. It's red, waxy petals stood out against the eery pale glow emanating from the freshly fallen snow. Still, it was a rose. Nothing special or extraordinary. Just a stupid bloody plant.

_**Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within.**_

"I've got an even better idea, hag. Why don't you extricate yourself and your stupid bloody flower from my doorstep?" Draco hissed down at her, taking a pace forward, his hand resting on the old wood of the door. He didn't want some eerie old woman intruding on him and his mates. He didn't need her rose.

"You vain, petty boy. Is there so little you know? I may be an old hag, but inside I possess more grandeur than you ever could. True beauty is found within, child. You'd do well to remember it."

_** And when he dismissed her again, the old woman's ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. **_

A harsh snarl left the silver haired boy's throat and he bared his teeth as he glared down at her. He wanted her gone, now. The man pushed his arm forward, listening to the frozen hinges creak as the door began swinging shut. "Get. Out." How naive of him. Utterly stupid to not notice the finer details. Like how her voice changed in the snap of a finger.

Just as he was about to turn his back on her, a strange glow began emanating from her chest. He froze where he stood and turned his head, eyes going wide as the light intensified and the form grew. The wind began whipping, frozen fingers slapping Draco hard upon his pale cheeks, trees protesting under the force of the unrelenting current. The light grew and grew until the Malfoy boy was forced to shield his eyes and turn away. The wind was frenzied, as if a cyclone were touching down.

And in an instant, it stopped dead. No whispers of wind. No light. Nothing but the serene silence that haunts every snowy night. The Slytherin returned his gaze to meet her very slowly, and with each second that passed, the longer Draco went on holding his breath.

There she stood, as if nothing and everything had changed. Half of her black and blonde hair held up in an elegant bun at the back of her head that flowed down past her shoulders, touching down on the all black robes she was accustomed to wearing. Cool grey-green eyes stared back at him with overwhelming impasse. Narcissa Malfoy's disgust for her son could not have been clearer in that or any moment.

"M..Mum?"

_** The prince tried to apologize, but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart. **_

"Mum... I.. I'm so sorry, I.. It was you all along, wasn't it? I should have let you in, mother, I'm so stricken... I-" Draco stammered, letting his hand fall from the door as he moved forward, arms outstretched toward Narcissa. But he stopped where he stood, those muscles in his jaw rippling again as a new sort of fury came over him. "Wait... Wh- Where the _hell_ have you been?!"

The blonde and black haired witch stepped back, her boot crunching the layer of snow that had fallen thick upon the Manor grounds. "Your regrets mean nothing to me now, Draco. You would have let a poor, old woman fall victim to your dereliction without abandon, because you fancy your own well being over others. You have no love. Nor did your father. _You're no better than he was_, Draco." Thin nostrils flared and her jaw clenched, mirroring her son's fury and ignoring his question. "I tried to raise you into a proper gentleman, but you sought your father's favor over mine, and in doing so, lost all of yourself. No love. No empathy. Just your cold, unfeeling, vain self."

She shook her head and looked him up and down, breaking her hard glare before she cocked her head to the side and smirked. "I wonder what would become of you if I took away the only thing you truly do cherish?"

_** And as punishment, she transformed him into a hideous beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there. **_

"What are you talking about, mother?" Draco asked, freezing on the spot. Something about this situation wasn't right... Something about his mother wasn't right.

Narcissa's smirk turned into a wicked grin as she reached into the large pocket of her robe, tugging free her wand. She locked eyes with her son once again and let her smile fade, her entire demeanor turning stony.

Her fingers tightened around the handle of her wand and she raised it, pointing it square at her only son's chest. "Simple vain boy. All that matters to you is your face. Everyone knows you're Draco Malfoy and thus they fear you. You cherish the association that comes along with your name and face. And so, I take it away... All of it."

As her child was about to protest, Narcissa flicked her wrist and a shot of pink flew from the end of her wand, knocking him hard against the ground. She quickly turned and shot a mirroring curse into the clouds forcing a tremendous rod of lightning to shoot from the churning mists and strike the highest point of Malfoy Manor. The grounds began to tremble and the walls began to crack. A heavy calignosity masked the Manor. The air was changing, shifting. Becoming heavier and heavier with smothering cold.

Draco fell to the ground and felt a hard crack in his spine. He snarled and sat up as best he could, a sheen of sweat breaking out upon his forehead. His back popped again and a louder yelp left him, then again and again. He screamed, withholding nothing. He squeezed his eyes shut and grunted, feeling the feverish heat begin to spread upon his flesh. The blonde boy gnashed his teeth together and shouted, hearing a tear in the linen of his shirt. The Slytherin finished the job there and forced it off, tossing the scraps aside as he gasped for the breath that so rapidly escaped his lungs. His eyes snapped open and he was greeted with a sight he'd never imagined he'd see.

Breaking out upon his arms were patches of thick silvery-green scales, turning his pale flesh into a tough armor. He looked up at Narcissa once, eyes wide and pleading as an alien spasm hit his mouth. He snarled and parted his jaws, feeling the ivory of his canines stretch far beyond what they should. He was changing, devolving into a monster.

Another horrified scream left him just as a hard, sharp pain in his back hurtled him forward onto his stomach. He lay there, against the frozen ground, screams resonating as another pang hit his back. In particular, two spots above the shoulder blades felt like they were being ripped to shreds, skin splitting, crimson goo oozing, it's irony scent mixing with the thick fog building around his domain.

Hot, sticky blood began to run down the sides of Draco's body and pool in the small valley created between his shoulder blades. The snow, so pure and clean, was growing darker and more unchaste by the moment. He writhed in pain, the cold snow providing no relief on his hot, scaly skin, and the torment was merely beginning. The blood stained snow began to melt slowly, leak into the other lucid slush around him, staining the pearly ground pink. He gasped between cries and dug his fingers into the frost underneath him, cringing with every breath that forced his lungs to heave.

The ache lasted for what felt like hours until it eased into nothingness. It was as if he'd healed and nothing had happened in the first place. His skin no longer burned, but felt nothing. His jaw relaxed from the unusual growth of his teeth. His back no longer ached.

A new and irregular weight forced him deeper into the slushed snow. His eyes still squeezed shut, the boy sat up and stood, his body trembling. A shaky breath left him and he peeked up at his mother.

She'd been standing at such a distance, watching his pain with no expression in her eyes, and slowly she came close to him, her wide-eyed quizzical gaze settled upon her son. She inched closer and closer until able to reach out and cup Draco's cheek in her thin hand.

"A Beast. Now your facade matches what lurks in the heart of a monster. In your heart, Draco... And the only way you can change this... is by changing your heart."

Draco looked down at her, catching sight of his hands, silver scaled and clawed, odd pads in his palm and on his fingers. He gasped and looked at his mother before he took off inside the manor, freezing in front of the nearest mirror.

The reflection that stared back at him was fearsome. An eerie half dragon, with tough silver scales. Spikes protruded from the ends of his shoulders and his hair evolved into horns, quite like a Hungarian Horntail's. Whatever ache overtook his back earlier was apparent now. Large wings stretched out above his head and remained curled in.

Draco's eyes widened and he felt the tears brew in his ducts, every sound and movement around him, fuzzing out into meaningless static.

_**Ashamed of his monstrous form, the Beast concealed himself inside his castle with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his 21st year. **_

_** If he would learn to love another and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. **_

_** As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?**_


	2. She Really Is A Funny Girl

Hermione shut her book and let out a sigh, looking up at the clock. It was a pleasant hour and the day was brilliant. No better time to go to Diagon Alley. She took a deep breath and stood up tossing the book she'd been buried under in her bag before she grabbed a light jumper and set to stand in her Floo System. She grabbed a handful of the usual black powder and tossed it down, a firm 'DIAGON ALLEY,' leaving her mouth.

In a flash of green fire, she was gone and falling through tunnels of swirling flames, their ghostly heat fuzzing her until she landed on the balls of her feet in the hearth of the Leaky Cauldron. She smiled and stepped out, nodding at Tom before she made her way toward the back door, earning strange looks from the patrons as she dusted her shoulders of the soot she'd gathered.

Diagon Alley was lovely this time of year. So tranquil, when people weren't bustling around for Hogwarts supplies. Every day identical to the last, full of witches and wizards who'd lasted through times that try the soul.

_ "Hello!"_

_ "Good'ay!"_

_ "Bonjour!"_

The calls of greeting echoed from all around and Hermione ducked around them, her aim to get to Flourish and Blotts as quickly as she could. She and the manager there had come to a compromise; He buys a copy of a book he'd like to sell, she reads and reviews them. That was her only real business, after the war.

Harry and Ron had gone off to become Aurors. Ginny was an international Quidditch super star. Most of the pro-Dark Arts familes had remained in the shadows or disappeared completely.

For a while, after the war, Hermione considered taking a position at the Ministry. Maybe something like Senior Undersecretary, or anything of the like. She could trump Umbridge's reign anyday, and she'd do it with a whole lot less pink. And torture.

The bushy haired witch walked slowly, weaving in between the streets, dodging people left and right. She was just passing Quality Quidditch Supplies, ready to follow the slowly turning path down to the Bookshop when the owner and operator of Quality Quidditch Supplies, an elderly wizard with threadbare robe and scraggily salt and pepper beard came from the shop.

"Miss Granger!" He cooed, smiling widely up at her.

"Oh! Good morning, sir." Hermione greeted in return, her smile soft as she stared down at the man. He'd always jump at the opportunity to get a word in with Ginny Weasley's best friend.

"Where'y'off to, Miss Granger?"

She knew he'd expected an answer like_ 'Gringotts, my friend, International Quidditch Star, Ginny Weasley, asked me to go and grab something from her vault, you know-_' or _'I'm off to Ollivanders, official Ministry Business,'_ but those were lies that Hermione couldn't and wouldn't delve into.

Now, where she was really headed, that was a huge interest of hers. "The bookshop. I just finished the most wonderful story, about wizard who meets up with a troll and a-" The Witch paused, watching as the old man's eyes went wide and he ran back into the shoppe, his age-gnarled hands waving wildly.

"That's nice- Marie, the lacquer! Hurry up!" Hermione stifled a small chuckle and let out a little huff, walking further down the alley way.

The whispers she'd heard along the way were always something that never failed to make her smirk to herself. How silly people were, with their gossipping, especially if they deluded themselves into thinking she'd just turn a deaf ear to them.

_ "Look, there she goes!"_

_ "That girl is strange, no question!"_

_ "-Dazed and distracted-" _

_ "-Can't you tell?"_

Hermione hadn't truly been part of a crowd since the war. Her head was always up in some cloud, and that was just the way she liked it. There was never a second anyone could deny Hermione was a funny girl, really. She was rather quirky, in that way. As the bushy haired, big toothed little muggle born witch she was, Hermione never really expected to do much else but meet a friend or two. Not become a saviour of the Wizarding World that people looked up to. Or down their noses at.

The brunette walked slowly, heaving a gentle sigh. There had to be more than this provincial life, hadn't there? A few steps further, and the witch pushed open the door to Flourish and Blotts, a small smile finding it's way on her lips at the smell of the old parchment and fresh ink that came along with the books. It was one of her favorite smells in the world.

"Ah! Hermione!" The owner called. Hermione looked up and chuckled, seeing not much but his pointed hat peeking over one of the shelves near the display window.

"Good morning," Hermione grinned, "I've come to return the book I borrowed." The small man waddled from behind the shelves, the lines at the corners of his eyes scrunching up in a small smile.

"Finished already?" He asked in an almost disbelieving tone.

"I couldn't put it down! Have'y got anything new?" She asked, pulling the book from her bag, offering it to the squat Wizard before her.

He let out a hearty chuckle and gave a light shake of his head. "Not since yesterday."

Hermione walked past him as he took the book from her hands. She huffed slightly and climbed up on a ladder, plucking free a much abused book at the top. One of those often lent out that was sometimes returned in worse shape than before. "That's alright. I'll borrow this one." Hermione grinned, hopping down before she reached the last few rungs, her wild curls bouncing about her face.

"That one? But you've read it twice?" The Wizard's tone was half accusing, half questioning. Not that Hermione could blame him, though. Most people got annoyed, reading the same things over and over again. But not her.

"Oh, but it's my favorite! Far off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, a prince in disguise!" She chuckled, hugging it to her chest. It was a childish gesture, the more she thought on it, but, oh well.

"Well, if you like it all that much, Miss Granger, it's yours." He gave a curt nod and started off toward the back, hiking up the corners of his greenish robes so he wouldn't trip over it.

"Oh, but sir-?" She said very softly, her chocolate colored eyes wide.

"I insist, Miss Granger!" He called, shaking one of his chubbier fingers in a finalizing way before Hermione beamed and held it tighter to her chest.

"Well, thank you! Thank you very much!" She suppressed a small giggle and turned to leave the old book shop, taking a final breath of those old books before she greeted the nice day once again, listening to those endless whispers.

_"Look, there she goes-"_

_ "-So peculiar!" _

_ "I wonder if she's feeling well?" _

The brunette smirked and looked away, cracking open that book of hers, her eyes tearing at the page, devouring each word. She knew how she appeared to the lot of them. With that dreamy, far off look and her nose stuck in a book. A puzzle to the rest of them. The girl paused in front of the Menagerie, taking a spot at a bench, just near a stand an old tawny owl was perched on. She read for a moment, watching as the people on the street slowly cleared out.

"Isn't this amazing?" She asked, to no one in particular, before she looked up at the owl, her grin wide. "It's my favorite part because, you see, here's where she meets Prince Charming, but... well, she won't discover that it's him til Chapter Three-"

The fat bird leaned over and pecked the corner of the page, making a small notch in the paper with it's beak. Hermione chuckled and closed the book, slipping into the bag she carried before she got up and started strolling away. She was going to head to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, but she was sure Fred wouldn't need her holding up business today. Everything had been hectic in the joke business. Since the war, business was booming, especially since no one was afraid of venturing into Diagon Alley anymore.

Plain sneakers made small squeaks against the cobbled streets as the bushy haired witch walked, listening to the whispers. Someone called her beauty unparalelled, and she wondered just where on earth that notion came from. Someone else called her odd. It was all so confusing. Hermione would rather someone have an opinion and stick to it. She headed back up the street toward the Leaky, paying attention to nothing, in particular. It was too nice a day to have a worry.

"Blimey, Krum, you're the fastest Seeker the league's ever known-" Exclaimed an all too familiar voice. Just as Hermione expected, it belonged to a tall, thin nosed, freckled, blue eyed Weasley. Ronald must have been on his lunch break. He'd been bragging about meeting up with Viktor Krum for weeks, as if Harry and Hermione could care.

"I know." Krum muttered in return.

She couldn't decide if he sounded apathetic on purpose, or not.

"No team stands a chance against you, Krum! No girl, either!" Ron exclaimed.

It was as if she wasn't even there, and she aimed not to be. Eavesdropping was fun, but what was the point, if Ron would go blathering about his lunch with Viktor Krum to everyone with ears? The two were just outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, quite the inconspicuous place to have a conversation about Quidditch and girls.

Hermione stifled a chuckle and rolled her shoulders back, setting her posture straight as she dug the book out again.

"It's true, Weasley. An' I've got my sights set on 'er." Krum said proudly, his countenance adopting that usual smug look he wore, dark eyes trailing after the witch he'd been after since her Fourth Year. The witch didn't bother turning around to see who he meant. She was walking further down the street, her nose buried in that book again, and no Bulgarian accent would turn her head.

Ron's eyes bulged for a moment and he sucked in a small gasp. "H-Hermione Granger?"

"Zhe's tha one, Wessley," Krum said, looping one arm over Ron's shoulders, his lips curving upwards in a devilish grin. "Tha' lucky one I'm goink to marry."

"But she's-"

"Tha mos' beootiful girl I know. Dat maeks her ze best. An' don' I deeserve da best?"

Ron gave a nervous chuckle, and reached up to scratch the back of his ginger head. "Well, of course, but-"

"Right fram the moment wen I met hur I say: "Zhe's gorgeous," and I fell. In dees world there's only she who is wordty as me, so, I'm maeking planz to woo and marry her." Krum chuckled, turning from the Ice Cream shop, the Weasley boy close at his flank.

A few of the girls outside the shop almost lost their heads, they were so infatuated with the famous Durmsdrang Quidditch star.

"Look! There he goes! Isn't he dreamy?" The first girl gushed, biting her lip as she watched the door swing shut.

"Viktor Krum? Oh, he's so cute!" The second girl sucked in a deep breath, resting one of her hands upon her bosom.

"Be still my heart!" The third girl cooed, her gaze following the other two's suit and focusing on the road Krum had just disappeared on.

"I'm hardly breathing." The second girl replied, the hand upon her chest raising to fan herself.

"He's such a tall, dark, strong and handsome-" The third girl said softly before being cut off by the first of the girls who's eyes thoughts undoubtedly held much more than lust-filled thoughts toward Viktor Krum.

"- Brute." The three girls eyes focused in on each other before they broke out into fits of endless giggles, each one's cheeks blushing a brighter pink than the color Fever Fudge added to the skin.

Hermione was well on her way out of the village, listening as the streets grew more raucous by the second, people bickering about quality and quantity shaking fingers, voices, loud and soft with thick accents or soft ones, ringing out like a chaotic symphony. The girl did her best to ignore it, her nose buried in that book. There had to have been more than this provincial life, hadn't there? Meanwhile, Krum and Ron were dodging people back and forth, begging for pardons, muttering 'Excuse me!' back and forth, listening to the whispers that Hermione left in her wake.

_ "It's a pity-"_

_ "-And a sin-"_

_ "Well, she doesn't quite fit in, does she?"_

_ "Quite the funny girl, I'd say."_

_ "She really is a funny girl."_

_ "-..beautiful-"_

_ "Yes, of course, but funny, all the same-" _

Krum dodged people left and right until he wormed his way to block the Brightest Witch of her Age's entrance into the Leaky Cauldron. "Hullo, 'Mione." He greeted, his voice booming.

"Afternoon, Viktor," Hermione smiled softly, giving a cordial bow of her head in return. She would've continued the niceties, had the Bulgarian Seeker not snatched the book right from her thin hands. Luckily she knew what page she was on. Or she may have had to kill him. "Viktor, may I have my book, please?" Her tone was impatient, she knew, but it's how she generally sounded when torn away from her literature, muggle or magical.

"Hao can yu read dis? Zere's no peectures?" Viktor asked, his accent thick as ever.

"Well, some people use their imaginations." Viktor sighed and tossed the book behind him, unflinching as it landed in a small puddle of water collected in the dip of the cobble stones.

"Eetz about time yu got your head out of zees books and focused on more important zsings. Like me." He smirked, watching as Hermione ducked behind him and grabbed her book, digging in her pocket for her wand. She cast a quick drying charm and the would-be Triwizard Champion heaved a sigh. "_Lyubov_, eets not right for such amazing woman to read. Too many ideas to clog zee mind. Too much zsinking."

The brown eyed witched glanced up, that little notch between her brows becoming visible as they knitted together. "Well, Krum, you are positively primeval." The annoyance in her voice was more than easily noted. Not as if the man before her cared, though.

"Zsank you, Hermione," He chuckled, an off putting, soft sound coming from the likes of him. "Oi, why don' you and I take a little trip down to zee Quidditch shop? Take a looook at mai asheivements?" Krum reached up and rested one of his meaty arms around her thin shoulders, pulling her close.

"Maybe some other time, thanks." Hermione muttered, feeling a distinctive burning in her cheeks at his sudden affection. And in public, no less. She heard a few murmurs from behind her, girls voices;

"What's wrong with her?"

"She's mad!"

"He's gorgeous!"

Hermione felt one side of her nose scrunch up in a not so secretive sneer. "Please, Krum, I've to get to Godric's Hollow and help Harry." From somewhere in Krum's shadow, that ginger haired boy she'd once fancied popped out, snorting.

"Harry? Oh, please that mental little tosser needs all the help he can get."

The brunette felt the stab of anger and treachery somewhere in her core. Not only for Harry, but for herself. They had once been the Golden Trio, but as per usual, Ron split as soon as it became an inconvenience for him. Now he was hanging all over Viktor Krum as if he hadn't been utterly green with envy all those years ago.

Hermione's teeth gritted and her free thin hand balled into a fist, her anger fueled by Krum's laughter. "Don't talk about him that way!" She snapped, watching as the boys' expressions sobered and Viktor cleared his throat.

"Yah, don' talk about Harry zat way." His tone feigned danger. He didn't really mean his silent threat. He was going along with it all to please her, and she knew it. How thick could you get?

"And he's not mental. He's brave!" She huffed and spun on her heel, disappearing into the Leaky, going straight to the Floo system, trying to ignore Viktor's and Ron's laughter that followed her.


	3. Come to Gawk at the Beast, Have you?

Hermione's sudden appearance in Harry's fireplace was a start for both of them. Harry had confiscated an object from a dark wizard and he created this theory that once cursed objects could be made benign again with a simple spell. He was still tinkering with the object when the green fire exploded and he jumped, that little box he held suddenly combusted, causing a smoke screen that was so thick you'd probably be able to cut through it.

"Harry?" Hermione called, coughing as she swatted the smoke away from her face, her eyes squinted as she walked closer.

"The bloody hell did that happen?!" Harry answered in reply, surpressing a cough to mimick Hermione's as he cast a charm to rid them both of the smoke. "Damn." He huffed, glaring down at the box.

"Are you alright, Harry?"

"Yeah. fine, but about ready to give up on this damned thing already." The Boy Who Lived mumbled. He reached up and took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat there, taking a deep breath.

"You always say that," Hermione smiled, tugging a chair out from under the table before she lowered herself onto it.

"Well, I mean it, this time," He began, shoving those black rimmed circular frames back over the bridge of his nose. "It's impossible, 'Mione. I will never get it to work."

"Yes, you will, Harry, and you'll win that award the Minister promised you." Potter let out an odd sort of 'hurupmh!' noise and crossed his arms over his chest. "- and get that new office you've been wanting." Hermione smirked, watching as Harry perked up, his whole countenance changing, as if she'd flipped a switch.

"D'ya think so?"

She grinned and nodded, "I always have."

"Blimey, then let's get this crap workin, yeah?" He asked, in better spirits than before, his grin almost contagious. The boy grabbed his wand and started in on his little project again, his eyes focused on the little box.

"So, what'd you do today?"

"I got a new book." She smirked to herself before she looked away, her brows creasing. "Harry, do you think I'm... odd?" She asked softly, her lip catching between her teeth.

"You? Odd? That's barmy," Harry said, glancing up again, his eyes seemingly bigger through the lenses of those glasses of his. "What gave you that idea?"

"I don't know... I just.. I don't feel like I fit in here anymore. Like there's no one I can really talk to. Save for you, of course."

"What about Krum? I hear he's back in London for a bit."

"Oh, he's here, alright. And rude and conceited as ever." Hermione frowned, huffing a stray hair from her face. "He's not at all my sort."

"Well, don't worry about it. You are a hero, Hermione. Without you, Ron and I wouldn't have stood half a chance against Voldemort. You deserve as much credit for everything you do as anyone else. And because this bloody thing's going to name you the best friend of a genius." He smirked, adjusting his glasses before he set the box down and nodded. "Right, I think I've done it. Let's test it out, yeah?"

Hermione nodded and stood back, her grin wide. She knew what to say to fix his problems, and vice versa. The brunette clapped a hand over her nose and mouth for just-in-case's, looking at Harry. The green eyed boy dropped the box on the table as before, expecting smoke to pour out of it. Nothing happened. Not the slightest disturbance. In fact, it seemed completely ordinary. Harry lifted it and tossed it around a few times, Hermione assisting. It made no smoke screens or sounds or any of what it did before.

"Harry, you did it. You_ actually_ did it!" Hermione laughed as Harry pulled her into a tight hug, his grin huge.

" 'Mione, get my robe for me, please? I've got to go to the Ministry." He beamed, picking the box up off it's place on the floor. The girl obeyed and rushed over to the coat rack, pulling Harry's Auror robe off the top hook before she ran back over and helped him into it.

"This is brilliant, Harry. Good luck." She smiled, patting him on the shoulder.

"Thanks. Make sure you lock up everything when you go, or better yet, stay here. We can go out for a bite when I come home. Bye, Mione." He grinned widely and took a few steps away from her, disappearing with that tell-tale 'POP' of apparation. Hermione smiled and gave a small nod, walking toward the couch to dive back into her book.

Potter was absolutely giddy. He'd finally finished the blasted series of spells he could use to get rid of dark enchantments on normal items and now it wouldn't only be his success, but the whole of the wizarding worlds. Harry appeared just in front of the Ministry before he walked in, joining the bustling traffic of people going in and out, to and fro. He walked slowly, trapped behind an ancient woman who smelled of what Harry would assume were mothballs and soured perfume.

She was nose first in today's copy of the Daily Prophet, which Harry had yet to have seen. He wasn't particularly interested, until he saw the headline.

**'MALFOY FAMILY EXTINCTION?'**

The subtitle wasn't very clear, but it read something along the lines of _'Narcissa Malfoy still missing. Son and Heir to Malfoy fortune gone without a trace. Post-War Vengeance Seekers suspected.'_

The Boy Who Lived made a mental note to read up on that, later. He and Draco were always at each other's throats, but since the war, it seemed to have faded into a silent, mutualistic apathy toward one another. His thoughts remained with the Malfoy family, his eyes focused distractedly on the black tile on the floors. From somewhere near him there was a loud crash and a 'WATCH OUT' being bellowed in his direction.

Harry's head snapped up in time to see a rogue trolley of packages heading right toward him. He gasped, trying to dodge it, but it was too late. The cart knicked him square in his gut and forced him back into the green flames of one of the many Floo networks that lined the walls.

Suddenly, Harry was falling, choking on ash that burned in the back of his throat. Memories of his first Floo'ing experiences dancing in his head as he spiraled about weightlessly. At least until he landed face first on a dusty marble floor. The boy forced himself up, a small groan escaping him. He heard a gentle whisper and then a slightly harsher one that sounded almost scolding. "Hullo?" Harry asked, his eyes widening. This place was so familiar, yet so foreign. Harry felt as if he shouldn't be here, and he was damn right about it, too.

"Must've gotten a bit lost, the tosser."

"If you were to shut your gob, perhaps he'd go away?"

Harry's ears perked up and he coughed to clear his throat, taking a deep breath. "Is someone there?"

"Don't say a word, Zabini, not a damned word." The voice hissed again, in so low a whisper, Harry almost missed it.

"Sorry, I... I got a bit lost in the Floo and I was wondering if you could maybe tell me where I am?"

"Oh, come _on_, Goyle-"

"Shush!" the voices continued.

Harry grabbed the nearest thing to him, a candleabra, it's candles glowing in the dim light and held it out before him. "Who's there?"

"Right 'ere, Scar-head." An almost annoyed voice answered. Harry glanced around before he focused in on the candles in his hand. In the polished silver, a set of eyes looked back at him. A breath hitched in Harry's voice and he exclaimed, dropping the light source before he backed up into a table, his eyes wide.

Of all the things he'd seen, moving, talking household items weren't at all anything he thought could exist.

"Bloody brilliant move, Zabini!" Said an annoyed voice to Harry's right. He turned and glanced up at a large grandfather clock, blinking in annoyance down at the little candlestick.

"Zabini? Blaise Zabini?" Harry questioned in a disbelieving tone, his eyes wide.

"Potter," He gave a small nod of affirmation," You do remember Goyle." The candlestick muttered in a bored tone, waving one of his metal arms toward the grandfather clock. Green eyes flashed up and he gulped, his heart pounding.

"...What happened to you?" The boy asked, gaping up at the clock face before him.

"Well, see, it's quite the tale, Potter. And as we all know,_ you lose your focus when you see something shiny._" The candlestick drawled, blowing a small breath on the bit of him that cupped the candles he had for hands before he gripped the side of an old rug and wiped away the spot.

Harry leaned down and huffed, gripping the candlestick from his midsection. Zabini groaned and huffed. "Listen here, you little-"

"What are you numpties blathering about?" Came a smaller, higher pitched voice from a lower level. Harry glanced down, his nose toward the floor, eyes widening at a tea pot, shuffling down the corridor with great difficulty. The Potter boy set the candlestick down and crouched to look at the pot, his emerald gaze bewildered. "Potter? The bloody hell are you doing here?" The little porcelain being asked incredulously, a scoff lurking beneath that snippy tone. Only one girl ever held that much disdain for the ex-Gryffindor. Pug-faced Pansy Parkinson.

"Pansy?!" He asked, earning a few small snickers from Blaise and Goyle.

"Oh, boy, not a bloody thing escapes you, does it?" She replied in a dry tone. Harry reached out and grabbde her by her handle, lifting her up. "Oi! What the hell is it you think you're doing, Scarhead?!" Pansy protested wriggling in his grasp.

"How in Godric's name did-" Harry began before he heard a loud clamoring noise from somewhere nearby. The clock, the pot, and the candlestick gasped in unison, their small breaths echoing through the dark hall. "What th-" Harry started, looking down at the teapot in his hand, those mossy eyes focused on her glossed over dark ones.

"Potter, run." She hissed, her eyes wide. Scared, he realized. Without warning a gust of air blew through the hall, snuffing out the little flames glowing on Blaise's candles.

"Who's here?" An ominous, booming voice called. It sounded so... scary. So unlike anything Harry had ever heard, yet.. eerily familiar.

"Just, allow me to explain, Dr-" Zabini began, relighting his flames before a resounding snarl bounced off the walls, extinguishing the newly lit flames. Zabini sighed and looked away. Harry shuffled over, setting the Pansy Pot down next to the other former Slytheirn.

"I'd jus' like to take this opportunity to mention tha' I didn-" The Grandfather Clock Goyle started, being cut off by another ferocious snarl.

Harry jumped and slowly reached for the wand waiting in his back pocket, squinting in the darkness for an answer as to who the hell was waiting there. Most of the dark wizards once associated with the three household objects had been taken into custody and locked away. Whoever this was... He was wrong. Out of place.

"I should have known it was you, Potter." The voice snarled as the figure moved into the dim light. Harry was not prepared for the sight that greeted him.

Towering and coated in silver scales that reflected an eerie green and looked tough as a knight's armor. Long, jagged wings that stuck up past his shoulders and remained tucked closed. Clawed hands, bony and leathery. Fearful to behold. Potter's breath hitched in his throat and he took a step back, his hip meeting with the cold marble of the table that the pot and the candlestick rested on, the sore spot from where he'd hit earlier stinging with a new little zing of pain.

"What are you doing here?" The dragon-eque being snarled down at the Boy Who Lived.

"I- I- I g-got thrown into the F-Floo, I d-don't know where I a-am?"

"Oh, but don't you? Take a good, long look, Scar-head. I'm sure you'll remember." He hissed through gritted teeth, a rattling in the back of his throat that sounded like a hundred snakes hissing. He moved closer to his used-to-be Nemesis, resplendent eyes filled with such... hate.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"What are you staring at?!" The monster bellowed, making Harry start again.

"N-Nothing! I wasn't staring at anything, I swear-" Harry swore he'd never heard Pansy as quiet as she was in this moment.

"Come to stare at what's become of the Malfoy name, have you?!" The dragon snarled, stomping closer, his taloned feet making loud noises against the marble. "Come to gawk at the Beast, have you?!"

Harry's eyes went wide all of the sudden, the knowledge dawning on him.

_ Draco Malfoy was a dragon,__** transformed**__ like the other three. _

A powerful curse.

"No, Malfoy, I just got lost, I-"

"I'll make sure the world loses you for far longer than just tonight." The dragon snapped, reaching forward to grab a handful of Harry's shirt and drag him along, fading into that unwelcoming, cold darkness.


	4. Imagine That

"Blimey, erm. Hermione's gonna get the surprise of her life, eh?" Ron chuckled in a nervous manner, following after Krum. Lucky for the bulgarian, he had an insider who knew precisely where the Granger girl would be.

"Yep. Zees is her lucky dae." Krum replied, walking down the lane toward Harry Potter's home in Godric's Hollow. The famous Seeker stood outside the small gate marked with Potter across the front taking a deep breath.

"Alright, Weasley. Ven Hermione an' I come out dat door you-"

"I know, I know!" Ron exclaimed giving a whish of his wand, listening as an orchestral arrangment started up, loud and boisterous. Krum huffed and grabbed the Weasley boy's wand away from him, giving a finalizing wave of it.

"Nod jet!" He snapped, holding the wand back out for it's owner. Ron took it back and cleared his throat, giving an awkward nod. Viktor raised his hand and knocked thrice, shooing Ronald away.

Hermione had been lounging back, her nose buried in that book again. When the rapping at the door sounded, she got up slowly and walked over, glancing through the peep hole. The brunette groaned at the distorted face that greeted her and unlocked the door, tugging it open slowly. "Viktor. What a... surprise?"

"Eesn't eet zo?" He smirked, sidestepping his way into the house. "Ahy am just full of surprizes." Viktor paused adjusting the collar of his shirt as he stood there in the doorway before he grinned down at her. He was the epitome pompous. Like all men of his type, he spotted polished metal frame that held the hall mirror and slinked over to it, leaning in close to check his teeth before he turned back to beam at her, a brow raised over one of his dark eyes. "Today eez ze dae all yur dreams come true."

"And what do _you_ know about _my_ dreams, Viktor?"

"Plenty," He replied, making his way into the parlor. He plopped himself down in Harry's usual armchair and kicked his feet up on the ottoman where Hermione's open book rest. She twitched uncomfortably and took a deep breath, walking slowly behind him. "Peecture zis." He cleared his throat and snuggled into the seat, smirking quite contentedly.

"A rustic hunting lodge, my latest kill roasting on ze fire, and my leettle wife, massaging my tired Quidditch mouscles, while the little ones play with the dogs," Krum smirked standing again to lean close to her face, winking in a predatory way. "We'll have seeks or seven." He grinned, cockily, not catching sight of her absolutely disgusted expression as he turned about. The thought made her stomach give a jolt.

"Dogs?" She asked hopefully, taking the book away from him and dusting it off before she dog-eared the page and set it down next to the rest of her things in the bag.

"No, Hermione! Strapping boys. Like me. Quidditch playurs!" He wiggled a brow and smirked, stepping closer to her.

"Imagine that." She breathed out a chuckle and gave a light shake of her head, leaning up against the doorframe. God, even trying to picture it left a bad taste on her tongue.

"And do you know who zat leettle wife will be?" Still, she backed closer and closer to the door, Krum advancing on her like a lion about to pounce on prey.

"Let me think-" She replied carefully, her teeth trapping her lower lip between them.

"You, Hermione." He grinned a bit too wickedly, watching as she pressed her back up against the front door. He rested his arms on either side of her head, trapping her between the wood of the entrance and his body. He smirked and reached one down, his fingers trailing lightly against the soft flesh of her cheek. "Marry me, Hermione." He smiled, leaning down, closer and closer, advancing toward her lips.

"I'm.. I'm so sorry, Krum, but I... I just don't deserve you." She whispered up at him, his lips just inches from hers when she forced open the door he pressed all his weight against. She bowed out of the way and watched him tumble down the front steps and land flat on his back before she slammed the door shut and locked it.

Much to Viktor's annoyance, Ron started up the song right on cue, the loud trumpets blaring Here Comes The Bride.

The Weasley boy cut the music quickly and walked over, leaning next to where Krum lay, a nervous smile on his face. "S..So. How'd it go?" He offered a smile, his expression quickly drooping when Viktor gripped him by the collar of his shirt and pulled himself up with the ungranted assistance.

"I'll have Hermione for my wife. Maek no miztake about zat." He huffed and let Ron drop flat on his bum before he stormed down th elittle walkway, shoving the gate open before he stomped out into Godric Hollow's main road.

"Touchy, he is." Ron mumbled to himself before he stood and chased after the Bulgarian Seeker.


	5. A Life for a Life

Hermione peeked out the peep hole, perched on her tip toes, those eyes of hers watching the scene play out. "Oh, he's gone." She murmured, turning to meet Harry's new owl's wise old eyes. She huffed out a slow breath and wiped her brow from the imaginary bead of sweat that'd found it's way there.

"Me, married to him? Can you imagine? Me, the wife of that boorish, brainless-" Hermione scoffed, walking over, snatching a doilie Mrs. Weasley had crocheted off the back of the couch, waving it around. "Madam Krum, can you_ just see i_t? Madam Krum, his _'leetle wife'_," Hermione sniggered, mimicking his accent as she threw the doilie over her wild brown hair, almost like a veil.

She walked toward the living room and snatched the little decorative rag off her head, tossing it aside. "No, sir. Not me. I guarantee it. I want much more than the life he offered me." She huffed and let herself fall onto the plush couch, closing her eyes. "I want adventure in the gread wide somewhere. I want it more than I can tell."

Hermione lowered her tone and heaved a gentle sigh, looking up at the smiling, waving faces of James and Lily Potter on the mantle piece above the fireplace, restored in Godric's Hollow, _right where they belonged_.

"And for once it might be grand... To have someone understand," She trailed off, sighing again, resting her thin hands upon her chest, just over her heart. "I want so much more than they've got planned."

Her quiet moment lasted for only a second more before the green flames rose in the Floo. Harry must have been back with some great news of some kind or another. The Brightest Witch of her Age sat up and smiled, expecting to see the face of her best friend greeting her back, but nothing happened. No one came from the floo.

Her brows furrowed and she got up, walking slowly over, careful not to get in the way. Hermione stood there for a minute, staring at the spot where the flames arose before she bent down at took the small box in her hand. The thing Harry had worked on for so long, here, without it's owner. Something was definitely wrong._ Very, very wrong._

Her eyes went wide and she gulped, setting the box down on the wooden end table that rested near the Floo before she stepped in and thought hard of her best friend and wherever he may be. She hadn't left him on his own when Ron deserted them during the war and she wouldn't do it this time either.

The girl grabbed a handful of powder and dropped it down, murmuring Harry's name over and over again, hoping the fireplace would spit her out where Harry was. And it did.

Hermione landed on her stomach as the floo forced her out, skidding across cold, dusty marble. The girl winced and coughed a few times, trying to regain the breath that was knocked out of her. All was dead silent. Hermione stood up and dusted off her shirt and jeans, clearing her throat a few more times before she pulled her wand from it's place in the holster beneath her sleeve. She held it before her and cast a lumos, starting slowly down the darkest corridor.

"Couldn't have bloody well kept your mouth shut, could you, Blaise? The bloody hell did you think you were gonna do? Offer him tea? Maybe a room? A ride on Draco's back?!" The grandfather clock huffed, his shorter arms waving about angrily.

"I was trying to get him to leave before Malfoy found him out, you daffy bastard."

"You wank, don't call me a bastard!" Goyle argued back angrily.

"I'll call you what I want you gargantuan, sodding, stupid, blundering idiot." Blaise scoffed, amusement hinting at his tone. It was si easy to get Goyle's blood pressure to rise, and often times, it ended in disaster and hilarity.

"Why yo-"

_"Hello?"_

The grandfather clock shut his mouth, his eyes going wide at the sudden voice ringing out. Distinctly feminine, and definitely not Pansy's.

"Harry?" Hermione asked softly, footfalls silent as death as she creeped through the dark corridor, dark eyes searching for any sign of irregularity. Aside from the trail carved in the newly disturbed dusty floor, there was nothing. Nothing. Not a damn thing but this creeping suspicion that she'd been here before, that she should be paralyzed in fear, that bad things had happened here. But the whole place looked so different, so deserted, so cold.

Hermione heard a door protest as it swung open and she gasped, turning around to make her way down that eerie staircase that lurked behind it. It led to the basement and it was was absolutely frozen down those steps. Frigid fingers wrapped around her thin ankles as she walked down the staircase, deeper into the unwelcoming darkness. A thin hand wrapped around the hilt of her wand and she tugged it from her pocket before she gave it a small tap, it's tip glowing a beautiful, warming white. It was cold and dewy, at the base of the steps, with water that dripped from the stones that dipped down like wanna-be stalactites. Hermione gave a shudder and held her thin arms rigidly against her thin frame.

"Do you see that? It's a girl!" Blaise hissed, hopping down the corridor after Hermione, Goyle close at his flank, his wooden little legs protesting under his weight.

"Tha's not just any girl, you nutter, tha's the mudblood!"

"Don't you get it, you twat? She's the one! She's the girl who's going to break the spell!" Blaise snapped, his tone sharp as he sped up, hopping after Hermione, keeping frozen on the stair that lead into the dungeons.

"Hold on a damn minute!" Goyle snarled, his voice loud, cutting through the silence like a knife. Hermione gasped and spun on her heel, pointing the wand up the stairwell, wondering just who the hell was following after her. "Hello? Is anyone there? Please, I'm just looking for a friend of mine, I-"

"H-Hermione?" A voice called, accompanied with a cough.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, whipping back around, her wand illuminating the pale, seemingly gaunt face of her best friend.

"H-Hermi-H-How did you f-find me?" He asked, reaching up toward her. The brunette raced over and skidded to her knees in front of him, taking his hands in hers.

"Merlin's beard, your hands are frozen." She whispered, leaning in to hug him. "We've got to get you out of here," She huffed against him, realizing her breath was leaving her in short, visible breaths. Harry pulled back and pushed her back by her shoulders, eyes wide. Scared as he looked her over.

"H-Hermione, I want you to leave this place. Forget about me, alright, j-just go."

"Who did this to you, Harry?" "N-No t-time to explain, just go." Harry huffed out through chattering teeth, his fingers balling into fists. He didn't want to let her go, but she had to leave. For her own safety. "No, Harry, I won't leave you," She said softly, starting to shake where she crouched.

In an instant, a heavy hand clasped over Hermione's shoulder and spun her around forcefully. She yelped and flopped onto her side, her wand clattering across the floor, the bright light emanating from it slowly fading.

"What are you doing here?!" A terrifying voice ripped through the silence of the dungeon, drowning out even the loudest drips of water.

"Hermione, run!" Harry shouted before he burst into a fit of coughs.

"Who's there? Who are you?" Hermione asked, blinking a few times, squinting in the darkness.

"The master of this Manor." He hissed in return, keeping deeper in the darkness.

"I-I've come for my friend, you... You've got to let him out. He's sick, can't you see? Please?"

"He really should have thought about that before he trespassed here." Draco sniggered in a cruel way, his talons digging into the cold, cobbled ground.

"H-He could die. Please, just.. I'll do anything." Hermione begged, reaching behind her to take Harry's cold hand in hers, those murky eyes of hers wide.

"The Boy Who Lived-**_ die_**? Hah!" The Dragon scoffed in amusement, stepping closer, the shadows still masking him. "He's my prisoner. You can't have him."

"No, but there must be something I- Please, sir, please just.." Hermione spoke, her voice wavering as the shivers took over her. She wracked her brain, thinking of anything she could do to get Harry free. He was this bastard's prisoner. This particular governor seemed too clingy to release the both of them.

So, she'd trade herself.

Besides, Harry would find a way to get her out. He always did. "Take me instead."

"Mione, no! You have no idea what you're doing!" Hary snapped, his hand tight on hers like a vise.

Damned right she didn't know what she was doing, but still- Draco would much rather have Granger be his prisoner than The Boy Who Lived To Annoy the Everliving Fuck out of him. He was taken quite aback in surprise at how simple it was to get her in his grasp.

"Harry, shush! - If I trade myself for him, will you let him go?" She asked, her impatience growing. Of course, Harry could agree and this being could keep the pair of them locked up in here anyway. But then, people would actually come looking for Potter, not much of anyone would care what should happen to Granger, from what he'd gathered.

"Yes. But you must vow to stay here forever." He snarled, his tone lower than it had been before. Hermione gave a solemn nod and thought about it for a moment, her hands shaking like leaves on a blustery day. Her brows creased and she looked up, biting on her lip.

"Come closer."

Draco wasn't ever used to being favored by the Granger girl. Still, people's reactions to his new, horrific face gave him pangs of anger and fear that seemed to rot him from his very core.

_** Love another and Earn her love in return.**_

As if anyone could love a face like his. Serpentine and terrifying, more startling to behold than the Dark Lord himself had once been.

The dragon inched closer, coming face to face with Hermione Granger. He could see his own reflection in that deep, warm brown of her eyes and the fear that grew in them. He's seen that look before- when his aunt Bellatrix had tortured her in the very parlor of this house. He'd hated that night, so much. Draco had fought the truth he knew so tumultuously, struggling to help the three Gryffindors he'd hated so much get free. And they had.

Hermione knew those eyes. Eyes once full of scorn and unbridled loathing, now held nothing more than contempt for himself. Anger. Pain. They'd been that way since the war had ended, the lusterous silver somehow dulled in comparison with how alive they used to be, when all he had to worry about was his next snappy comment. Draco Malfoy was the monster she'd _known_ was inside him the whole time, those Adonis-like looks of his gone, replaced with fearful, beast-like features directly from a nightmare.

_ The darkest kind of dark magic._

She turned away from him, leaning closer to Harry, her eyes full of ardent terror.

"Hermione, I won't let you do this.." Harry whispered down at her, his trembling form hugging her close. Draco pulled away, slipping into the shadows once more, his wings shuffling back and forth in anticipation. The brunette gritted her teeth and pulled away from Harry, standing tall to face the monster before her.

"You have my word." She offered him a nod, her jaw clenched so tight, her teeth began to ache.

"Done." Draco hissed, moving swiftly over to grab Harry by the back of his neck, hauling him up and shoving him toward the door.

"Mione, NO!" Harry called, watching as the brunette turned away, fighting the tears that stung at her eyes. "Hermione, please!" Harry bellowed, fighting futilly against the beast's grip.

Hermione spun around and ran after them, her eyes wide and full of steamy, unshed tears. "Wait!"

"Hermione!"

"Please wait!"

Draco ignored all begs and cries, running up the stairs, dragging Harry behind him. He slammed the dungeon door shut and moved over to the Floo network, throwing Harry inside it, slamming the grate closed.

"No, please! Malfoy, please, leave her be-" Harry begged, slamming his fists againt the fire grate, his emerald eyes wide with horror.

"She's no longer your concern," Draco replied, throwing some of the dust in, hissing out "The Leaky Cauldron," cold pewter eyes watching Harry's form become consumed by the flames before disappearing, his final pleas for Hermione's life hanging in the air.

The brunette's face was pressed up against the door, listening intently. She heard Harry's voice cut off and she felt the first scalding tear slide down her pale cheek. The girl backed up and fell to her knees, hiding her face in her frosen hands, shuddering at the cold, shoulders shaking as she cried.

Draco was storming back toward the dungeons, his teeth bared in that usual sneer he wore.

"Draco?" A voice chimed in from his side. The beast turned to his right, eyes meeting with those of a candlestick. Blaise.

"What?" He snapped angrily, the muscles in his jaw rippling beneath the scales.

"I figure, since Granger's going to be with us for some time, you should perhaps offer her a room. Make her more comfortable?" Blaise said nonchalantly, jumping at the growl he'd elicited from Draco's throat. He felt his flames blow out and his eyes widened slightly, coughing to clear his throat. "Then again, maybe not."

The Beast spun and kept on down the corridor shoving open the door, intent on keeping his jaw clenched and his shoulders squared. Something about a crying girls always had an impact on the Malfoy heir; He always felt obligated to make them feel better. But this was Hermione Granger they were talking about, he had to be strong. The dragon stood there, glancing down his nose at her before he turned away and heaved a sigh.

"Y-You didn't even let me say goodbye," Hermione sniffled, glaring up at the flaxen haired former Slytherin with disdain. "I'll never see him again, and.. I- I d-didn't even get a chance to say goodbye." She returned her tear stained cheeks to her hands and gave another sob, hunching her thin shoulders forward.

Draco cleared his throat and stiffened, squaring his shoulders. He pursed his lips together and sucked in a breath, holding his hands in front of him, the mannered way he'd been taught to do. "I'll, erm... I'll show you toward your room."

That took her by surprise. She sniffled and glanced up, her tears slipping slowly down her cheeks, those chocolate eyes of hers misty with unshed tears. "M-My room? But.. I thought?" Hermione mumbled, motioning around her, indicating the dungeons around her.

"Do you wish to stay in lock up, Granger?" He asked, his gaze almost disciplinary as McGonagall's used to be. Hermione tore her eyes away from his face, giving a small shake of her head, standing. She dragged her sleeve across her cheeks, mopping up the tears that stained her pale complexion.

"N-No."

Draco took a deep breath and nodded, turning on his heel, heading toward the stairs, his tail whipping slowly from side to side. "Then follow me." He shoved open the dungeon door with ease, it's rusty, tired hinges sreeching in protest. Hermione hung behind, her feet moving after him, her eyes focused on the home.

It was a wonder Granger didn't recognize the place, after all, she'd been tortured in it's damned drawing room. But everything was twisted and bent out of shape, the ornately carved snakes over the base boards turned to wicked spiked serpents, beings that should never be called into existence. The once grand, shimmering, onyx detailing of the rooms now an inky, dulled, flat black with no life left in it.

She watched the terrifying creature before her her take a candlestick in his gnarled paw and head up the stairs, his breath huffing out, as if labored. They advanced slowly up the stairs and moved onto a high celing'ed corridor, passing arching doors that seemed to be cut from a single slab of marble, now weathered and darkened by time, though no time had really passed. Hermione guessed that whatever changed the master of the house changed the very architecture. It was all so chilling.

Hermione did a quick two-step and moved in closer to the beast before her, her eyes watering once again.

The candlestick glanced over Draco's hand and huffed, speaking up at his friend through gritted teeth. "Say something to her."

Malfoy glanced down at Blaise, a brow quirking over his silver eyes. It was that instance where he heard the words Blaise had said to him and he muttered out a "Huh?" before the statement really hit him. "Oh!" Draco hissed, clearing his throat loudly before he glanced over hhis shoulder for a moment, his brows furrowing. He didn't have a damned clue what to say to her. Their prior encounters had only ever consisted of arguments, never really decent conversation. "I, uhm. Hope you like it here?"

Damn, even Draco nearly cringed at how sordid that statement sounded and felt leaving his lips. Hermione glanced up at him and away from the stone work, brows eyes burning into the back of his head, her lips parted in a silent 'o' of confusion. "The Manor is your home, now, so, you may go anywhere you wish. Except the West Wing." If he were any other poor sod, he'd have stammered through the whole sentence, but he was Draco Malfoy, the very picture of proper and versed, at least before he'd been transfigured into a monster. It's how he was raised, how everyone was meant to be raised in the Pure Blood half of the wizarding world.

"What's in the West Wing?" Hermione asked before she really thought about eh question or how leery it sounded.

"It's forbidden." Draco snapped, feeling the tension in his shoulders build. Hermione snapped her mouth shut and followed after him reluctantly, turning when he turned, twisting when he twisted.

Pausing at one of the doors, he pushed it open with ease and let her precede him, holding the candlestick out before him, his arm in the room. It's golden warmth spilled onto a massive canopied bed with sheer emerald curtains surrounding it. It was stacked high with green and wilver pillows and covered by a thick, black comforter. She moved closer to the bed, noting the high windows near her, those hevy green velvet draparies held back with fringers silver ties. "I hope it's suitable enough." Draco murmured, his leathery lips pulling up in that smooth smirk of his.

"It's fine." Hermione whispered, looking back at him, bending to press a hand on the comforter, inhaling that freshly washed, clean scent. Fine was an understatement. This room looked like it belonged to some royalty, as if untouched by the hand of the curse that hung over her own, personal prison. It was gorgeous in every way. Decorative, but not too much, the antiques gleaming silently where they rested. Fine was definitely an underplay.

"Fine. If you need anything, the servants will attend you."

He felt the candlestick in his palm wiggle and he pulled it closer, watching Blaise heave a sigh. "Dinner," Drao's eyes squinted in misunderstanding and Blaise huffed, moving his little candled hand to press against his silver forehead. "Invite her to dinner."

The Dragon gave a curt nod and took in a deep breath, clearing his throat. "You... You will join me for dinner. That's not a request." His grin was a wicked and cruel one as he forced the door shut, slamming it with a loud smash, the force he used, making the whole hall shake.

Hermione gasped and jumped, feeling the hot tingle in her nose that meant the tears were undoubtedly coming. The brunette ran over to her bed and sat at the edge of it, leaning forward dejectedly. A single tear fell from her eye onto her hand and she took a slow breath, clenching her jaw, her lower lip trembling. A soft, broken sob escaped her and she let herself fall back on the plush comforter, a long nights worth of weeping starting up.

Draco stood outside her door, his jaw clenched tight. He glanced down at Zabini in his hand and huffed, his silver, serpentine eyes narrowing dangerously. "She doesn't eat with me, then she doesn't eat at all."


	6. Please

"Who does she zsink she ees?! Zat girl has tangled wit zee wrong man. No one says 'No' to Viktor Krum!" The Seeker fumed, sitting firmly in his chair before the hearth at the Leaky Cauldron.

"Damn right!" Ron muttered, looking sideways at his idol.

"Deesmissed. Reejected. Pooblicly humiliated. Eet's more zen I can bear."

Ron offered a shaky smile and held out his mug, clearing his throat. "D'you want s'more butter beer?"

"Wat for? Nutsing helps. I'm deesgraced." Krum frowned and leaned back in his chair, sinking low in the cushions.

"Who? You, Krum? Never! Mate, you've got to pull yourself together." It was rare Ron used his verbal skills to praise anyone. He was usually complaining to Harry or Hermione or his mother, or blathering on about something mindless. "Merlin, it disturbs me to see you, Krum, looking so down in the dumps. Every bloke here'd love to be you, Krum... Even when taking- well." Ron cleared his throat and raised a hand to scratch at his ginger head, taking a deep breath. "No one's slick as you, Krum. Or quick as you. You're Viktor Krum, the greatest Seeker in the whole world. You're everyone's favorite bloke. Everyone's awed and inspired by you, and it's not very hard to see why-"

"Yu are right, Weasley. I am a perfect specimen. Zhe's as loony as that-" Viktor's voice was cut short by a loud clattering and a hard hit, flesh against stone. He and Ron spun in unison, their eyes wide. There Harry Potter lay, holding his elbow, covered in ash and soot, choking on the grit.

"Help!" Harry coughed, looking around wildly, standing too quickly. The world gave a dangerous spin and he held onto a table for support, his eyes falling shut.

"Harry?" Someone asked, the place going dead quiet.

"Please! Please, I need your help. He's got her- He's got her locked in a dungeon." Harry said, still coughing, his soot stained face eerily pale beneath the black smudges.

"Who?" Ron asked, his brows knitting together. He stood slowly and took a tentative step closer to the Boy Who Lived.

"Hermione," Potter began, turning to face Ron, praying that his old school mate was in there somewhere, still sound of mind and less full of himself.

Viktor's brows rose and he stood, a single stride bringing him closer to his Triwizard opponent than any of Ron's steps had. "Who haz Hermione locked een a dungeon, Potteer?"

"Dragon. A dragon, Draco Malfoy!" He said, moving closer to Viktor, his eyes wide and full of an unspoken apprehension. Someone in the back snorted and another coughed. Of course they'd laugh at him when his best friend had just been taken captive by some sadist.

"A dragon? Was he a huge dragon?" A faceless man near the back called, his tone filled with beguilement.

"Yes, dammit, now let's go!"

"With a long, ugly snout?"

"Worse than a Hungarian Horntail, look-" Harry answered the questions in stride, his jaw clenching tight. He glanced up at Victor, raising a brow, silently begging for his help.

"And sharp fangs?"

"Yes, yes, now will you help me, or not?" Potter snapped at the crony calling out to him.

Viktor's mask of concern morphed, changing into a knowing, almost wicked countenance of vigor. "Alright, Potteer, we'll halp you _out._"

Harry didn't quite like the way Krum lingered on the word 'out,' and he especially didn't like the feeling of arms wrapping around his torso, or the feeling of getting dragged out into the middle of Diagon Alley and left in his state. The door slammed and Harry looked up from his place at the ground, wincing again, the new loathing for everyone in the tavern warming the cold he'd aquired in that basement. He was going to free Hermione. Even if it was the last thing he ever did.

"Ron, I ahm afraeed I've been zsinking."

"A dangerous past time-"

"I know." Krum acknowledged, crossing one arm over the other as he lowered himself onto his chair. "Zat loon ees Hermione's best friend. And hees sanity- it's only so-so. Yu see,zee wheels in my head have been turning, seence I set eyes on that nuttur in the Tournament," Viktor paused, his dark eyes searching Weasley's vacant expression, his jaw clenching and shoulders squaring. "I promeesed myself I'd be marries to zaat girl and, by Greendlewald, I'm evolvingk a plan."

Ron's eyes widened a bit and he nodded, leaning closer to Krum, their voices growing dangerously low under the roar of everyone else's chatter.

After a long moment, Ron leaned back, his lips curling upwards in a cold grin, giving a slow nod, a dark chuckle escaping the back of his throat. Amazing, how easily Ronald could have been molded to change sides. It was a bloody wonder Draco Malfoy was on the dark side or Ron might have been tempted to jump to that team, had be been bribed well enough. Opportunist, as always.

Their plot had been created and the seed planted. Now, all that was left was execution, be it quick and clean or slow and dirty. When Viktor Krum made a plan, everyone would see it executed. His head may have been filled with sawdust once, but it wasn't any longer. He knew how to get his way, and he would get it, no matter who got in his way.


End file.
